


Too Mundane a Word

by BleuMorpho



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Extremely mild angst that leads to fluff and sex!, M/M, Mating Season, Monsters in love, Vampire AU, siren au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuMorpho/pseuds/BleuMorpho
Summary: Hermann notices that Newt, his secret Siren love crush, hasn't visited him lately and the Vampire is getting worried. When he finally finds him, he is forced to confront the feelings he has been so carefully ignoring and make a difficult decision that, surprisingly, isn't that difficult at all.Based on feriowind's Siren!Newt and Vampire!Hermann AU.





	Too Mundane a Word

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on [feriowind's](http://feriowind.tumblr.com/post/177805948510/me-makes-aus-that-stray-farther-and-farther-from) Siren!Newt and Vampire!Hermann AU. All thanks and praise for the idea go to them!

 

There are days when Hermann feels nothing.

 

Not the cold, not the damp, not even the painful sting of venom that courses through his shriveled veins and eats away at the stolen blood that sustains his immortal form. It is on these days that he keenly feels just how inhuman he has become, and a part of him yearns to feel the pain and fear of such a sorrowful revelation. Instead, he locks himself away in the depths of his tower, surrounds himself with the unfeeling company of words and numbers alike, and looks upon his reflection with the faintest stirrings of discontent and callous eyes.

 

Then there are days when he wakes from his superficial slumber, his belly full and his mind heavy with the awareness of his own ability to breathe, and everything _hurts_.

 

He barely had any memories from his time as a human being, in the days when knowledge rather than greed was the key to power, but there were some scars that would never truly fade away. His left leg had been broken in three places a few years before he’d reached manhood, and the medicinal technologies of the time had been imperfect at best and outright neglectful at worst. When he’d first been turned, the one saving grace to his new, monstrous form was a strength that he had never possessed before and a resistance to the pain he’d been forced to accept as his new reality.

 

But some miracles are not the blessings they pretend to be, and most come with conditions.

 

On these days, he wakes with a twinge up his hip and a migraine already pulsing behind his temples. He grits his fangs against one another, takes shaking breaths that he shouldn’t be able to feel so completely, and debates the desire to stay wrapped up in the silk sheets covering his head for the rest of time. He never does, of course, for there is always work to be done and a night to explore among the clouds.

 

And then there is Newt.

 

Aggravating, incessant, foolish, _beautiful_ Newt — the ray of sunshine that burns his blackened heart rather than his skin. 

 

The ancient Siren visited Hermann every day if he could, dancing through the waters surrounding his domain and caressing the Vampire’s senses like a gentle breeze at the back of his neck. It had been a little annoying at first, a distraction either silently welcomed or disdained depending on the day. And then Hermann had almost thrown himself off of the edge of the cliffs surrounding his vast estate when he’d realized that his begrudging tolerance for Newt’s presence had grown into something far more profound than he thought possible, something that sent his barely-beating heart into unprecedented tachycardia if Newt had not appeared by the height of dawn.

 

He refused to call it love — the word was too human, too mundane, and said so often that it lacked any meaning to him.

 

Still, Hermann could not deny that the pain he was currently in was far stronger than it had ever been before, and he had the terrifying feeling that it had something to do with the fact that Newt had been missing for the past seven days. He hadn’t been too worried at first, knowing well that the Siren was more easily distracted than most creatures he’d encountered. But then the days and nights had dragged on, his work began to suffer, and before he knew it he was clutching the cane he’d not used in years just to keep himself focused on something else.

 

‘ _He has a life outside of you, just like you have one outside of him!_ ’ he scolds himself, the normally comforting scent of dusty chalk weighing heavily on his tongue as he busies himself in his private office. ‘ _He probably just swam off after another rare sea creature. He’s fine!_ ’

 

‘ ** _But what if that sea creature was a dangerous one? What if he’s hurt?_** ’ his paranoia counters softly. The chalk in his grasp falters only slightly, sweeping movements painting patterns of divinity across the black wall in spite of his preoccupied flow of thoughts.

 

‘ _He’s tougher than he looks. He can handle himself._ ’

 

‘ ** _And what if he finally got too close to the human villages he loves so much?_** ’

 

That tiny thought is what finally gives him pause. He stares at the office-wall-turned-blackboard with wide, unseeing eyes, unwelcome nightmares spreading like a cancer from his chest and swiftly sending his entire body into a silent panic.

 

Because he could practically _see_ it. He could imagine Newt lurking in the shadows of some unsuspecting dock of the surrounding villages, as he often did for scientific exploration. He could imagine the Siren becoming careless, excited, throwing nonexistent caution to the wind and being spotted by a wandering passerby. He could imagine screaming, rioting, and poor Newt scrambling to get away only to be faced with just how innovative human beings could be when their cruelty and fear combined.

 

The chalk barely makes a sound as it hits the floor, abandoned without a care as Hermann limps his way to the nearest window, wraps the shadows around him like a cloak, and flings his body into the night sky as two wings manifest at his sides.

 

Within seconds he is flying above the ocean surface, sending his heightened senses into overdrive as he allows the magic of the land to flow through him. The wind is colder than he usually comprehends and the air is heavy with salt, but all of this is muted under the pulses of life that he senses beneath the churning waves below him. Weaving schools of fish, a human boat dipping now and again across the line of his territory near the closest village, but no matter how deeply he searches, he cannot find a sign of Newt anywhere.

 

He circles the perimeter of his domain once, twice, and then he can stand to be silent no longer.

 

“Newt?” he calls hesitantly, keeping his search more isolated to the areas he knows the Siren most often emerges from. He honestly doesn’t know if the creatures below can even hear him, but he finds he cannot help but try. “Newt, are you there? Can you hear me?”

 

He continues to fly in wide arcs around the perimeter until he finally accepts that the only monster within it is him. He glances back to his castle, standing proud and foreboding at the top of the cliffs, before stamping down the sense of unease creeping up his spine and tilting his shadow magic wings to take him out beyond the bounds of his domain. It is not often that he has to travel beyond his bubble of familiarity and comfort, but he knows if he turns away and runs back to his numbers, he will only be left wondering if he had done enough to ensure that his — well — his _Newt_ was well and unharmed.

 

He stays well above the ocean’s surface, but not so far that his heightened senses cannot observe any movements below. It takes him longer than he would ever admit, certainly close to an hour, before a familiar energy lurches to the left of him just barely at the level of his awareness.

 

“...Newt?”

 

He waits. He worries. He decides the risk of attack is worth it.

 

He does not need to breathe, not in the same manner that humans do, but the action of taking a deep breath before he plunges into the icy waters is comforting in its own way. He can see just as well in the dark depths of the sea as he can in the night above, the scattering schools of sea life shimmering amongst the shadows as he descends down, down, down until the presence he seeks becomes sharp and clear. The shadows he commands pull him to the gaping entrance of a small cave covered in coral and flowing weeds.

 

He cannot speak under the water as Newt can, but his shadows do the talking for him.

 

It only takes a moment, a soft and gentle poke into the darkness of the cave, and then he is rewarded with a relief he would never admit to feeling aloud.

 

“Hermann?”

 

A familiar set of vibrant green eyes is the first thing he sees, followed by a voluminous mane of brown locks that floats like ink through the waters. Newt’s body is coiled tightly into the farthest reaches of the tiny cave, far more compact that Hermann believes is comfortable for the Siren’s long blue tail, and he moves only the barest amount forward to catch a better glimpse of the Vampire hovering in front of him. Hermann tilts his head and banishes the shadows around his arms to make his gestures visible.

 

‘ _You. Here. Why?_ ’ Newt’s long fingers curl around the nearest rock wall, his eyes falling to the floor in an uncharacteristic sign of nervousness.

 

“I, uh...well, I kinda live here right now,” he says. His teeth flash in a poor imitation of his usual grin, his eyes never truly meeting Hermann’s despite their proximity. “Temporarily, you know? We Sirens never really settle down in one place.”

 

Hermann blinks and tries to float closer, only to feel his heart clench when Newt pushes himself as far away from him as the cramped space of the cave will allow.

 

“Don’t! You should, uh, you should really go!” he cries. Hermann stares at him openly, unable to hide his concern beneath his usual stoic mask and begging for an explanation with his eyes.

 

Newt has never run from him before. On the contrary, it was always Newt that sought him out, brought him out of the darkness and into the open air for the first time in centuries. Newt was the only being he had ever met that he would consider his equal -- two monsters of frightening, though strikingly different, power that could bring the entire world to their knees if they so chose.

 

So, why?

 

‘ _Why do you pull away from me? What have I done wrong?_ ’

 

Newt must see something in his expression that he doesn’t like going by his stricken grimace. He appears to debate within his own mind about something and finally opens his mouth to speak, but a moment later, another silent presence approaches in haste from behind where Hermann floats. Hermann curses his stupidity, his carelessness in a territory where he is at a severe disadvantage, as he turns to face the oncoming threat with a menacing glare.

 

It is another Siren, that much is certain. Male, only slightly larger than Newt is at his full height, with long blonde hair, a surprisingly thick beard, and sharp jaws stained red with what Hermann has come to intimately recognize as blood. A gruesome scar cuts through the Siren’s left eye and down the side of his face, only heightening his aggressive demeanor as he barrels through the water and slams his black tail against whatever surface is unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

 

Where Newt is graceful and smooth in his travels, this new challenger is brash and bulky. Hermann can see only bloodlust and rage in his one functioning eye, and the Vampire quickly wraps the shadows around himself in preparation for a counterattack. He cannot swim as well as the Sirens, nor does he expect to be able to calculate his opponent’s methods of attack, but he is just as strong and just as determined to continue living his somber existence.

 

It appears he needn’t have bothered, because Newt blurs past him with a vicious hiss that echoes in Hermann’s clogged ears.

 

Before Hermann can even think to intervene, Newt’s body crashes directly into the stranger’s chest and sends them both tumbling in a thrashing ball of scales and hair cross the ocean floor. Terrible, angry hisses and deep roars echo across the water as the two Sirens grapple against one another at a speed Hermann can barely follow with his eyes. They use their teeth, their claws, anything they can to try and bring the other Siren that much closer to their demise.

 

‘ _I have to get out of here!_ ’ Hermann thinks desperately, this sudden show of strength and brutality throwing him irreparably far outside of his comfort zone. It’s terrifying, to say the least, and it is a feeling Hermann is not used to.

 

‘ ** _But what if he loses?_** ’ that treasonous voice within whispers.

 

Hermann finds himself at an impasse, desperate to give into his survival instincts and flee to safety above the waves and yet far too worried for Newt to abandon him. Blood floats around them in sickening trickles as the hisses grow more pained and furious, and Hermann is thankful the seawater clogs his nostrils against the smell.

 

Then the stranger makes a complicated move with his tail that Newt appears not to see coming, flipping their bodies over and pressing Newt deep into the sand-covered floor with jaws open and ready to strike.  

 

Hermann’s protective instincts flare up at once, his mouth falling open in a silent roar as he sends his shadows forward in a burst of power and rage. The shadows take any form his mind can conceive, and in this particular circumstance, they become long, sharp spikes that pierce through the attacker’s chest like a knife through warm butter. The Siren’s one good eye blinks, squints in agony, and then falls closed as the rest of his body expires.

 

Hermann reclaims his shadows with a dignified huff, watching the stranger's body float away in a bloody cloud without remorse.

 

“Hermann?” Newt’s pained, but also clearly embarrassed, voice calls softly. The Vampire wastes no further time, scooping up the wounded Siren in his shadows’ clutches and carrying them both up toward the surface. “Hey! Wait, put me down!”

 

Hermann ignores him, breaking through the churning waves and soaring up into the sky. He can feel Newt squirming against the shadowed fist that gently keeps the Siren within its grasp, but does not stop flying or acknowledge his protests until they are safely within the bounds of the Vampire’s territory once more. He touches down on land rather than in the water, laying Newt’s bleeding body on the rocks surrounding the cove near the cliffs that keep his castle safe and divided from the rest of the world.

 

“What’s the big idea, Hermann?” Newt growls. He pushes himself away from the shadows with a grimace, clutching his injured hip and curling his body up in a tight coil across the rocky shore. “I told you to go! Why don’t you ever just listen to me?”

 

Hermann’s wrath still churns through his cold, shriveled veins, but the feelings he refuses to name are a far more vocal mistress that dwells within his heart. And so he keeps his scolding speeches to himself, bends down to where Newt shivers and writhes, and exposes his left hand with a sigh. Newt’s eyes follow his every movement with a mix of curiosity and distrust, which hurts more than Hermann hopes is apparent on his face, and they practically bug out of his head when Hermann uses one of his fangs to rip into the flesh of his palm.

 

“What are you doing?!” The Siren suddenly seems to lose all sense of his own pain as he grabs Hermann’s wrist with a cry of distress, cradling the appendage like it is something precious in his own bleeding hands.

 

“It’s fine,” Hermann assures sternly. “Hold still.”

 

He uses his uninjured hand to pull Newt’s arm more clearly into view, taking his bleeding hand and running it over the various lacerations adorning his beloved’s skin. Newt makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, but watches with wide eyes as their blood mixes together and the edges of his wounds begin to close themselves in rapid succession. Hermann has to keep reopening his own wound as he moves on to each injury Newt sustained in the skirmish, but within a few short minutes, it was as if it had never happened in the first place.

 

“Vampires heal very quickly, as you can see,” Hermann says with a smirk.

 

Newt remains uncharacteristically somber and quiet, nodding his understanding and turning his body away. His blue scales are exceptionally vibrant this evening in the silver light of the moon, and Hermann notices that the ordinarily simple patterns adorning his arms and chest have expanded and swirled across his skin like fresh ink. It occurs to Hermann, not for the first time, that Newt is quite handsome and ethereal in his own unique way.

 

The Vampire swallows the remnants of his pride and bloodlust towards their nameless attacker, reaching out to caress Newt’s forearm.

 

“Is this new?” Newt glares at him from behind the wet curtain of his hair.

 

“...you could say that.” Hermann waits for further explanation, but receives none. Instead, they sit in a silence more uncomfortable than Hermann has felt in ages. 

 

“Newt, have I done something to offend you?” he demands softly. The Siren’s expression grows soft in its pain, but his jaw remains tightly clenched. “Because I truly didn’t mean to, if I have. If you are willing to tell me what I said or did —”

 

“It’s not you, Hermann,” Newt suddenly whispers. His hands slide up his forearms and across the colorful new patterns resting there, the beds of his long fingernails still stained red with blood. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

 

“Then what is it?” Hermann cannot help but press, his now-healed hand unconsciously reaching up and wrapping itself around the broadest part of Newt’s tail at his hips.

 

The movement brings their bodies closer, so close that they are almost touching from head to toe (or, tailfin, as the case may be). They had touched like this before, usually whenever Hermann needed to help Newt up out of the water to see something beyond his line of sight. Additionally, Newt had always been extremely generous with his touches, throwing his arms around Hermann and curling his long tail around his legs no matter how many times the Vampire had tried to protest in the beginning.

 

Which is why it is such a shock when Newt tries to wrench himself away.

 

“No! I can’t —” Hermann releases him immediately, watching with confusion as Newt’s hands reach up to grab fistfuls of his waistcoat in response. His head presses almost painfully against Hermann’s chest, with high-pitched groans reaching his ears despite being muffled by clenched lips. “Hermann...don't make me say it…”

 

“Newt? What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

 

‘ _I don’t understand. What is happening?!_ ’

 

Newt shakes his head, his tail slowly wrapping around where they sit as though shielding them from prying eyes. Hermann swallows back his fear and wraps his arms around Newt’s back, pulling his limp body against his own as gently as he is able. Newt allows him the luxury, in spite of his earlier protests, before turning his head just enough to speak without any interference.

 

“It’s mating season,” he forces himself to say, “and it’s taking everything I have not to jump on you right now.”

 

Hermann blinks.

 

Hermann stutters.

 

Hermann’s mind short-circuits.

 

“Mating season? You — that’s — you want to mate with me?” he asks, his voice reaching octaves he didn’t even know it was capable of. He supposes it makes a certain amount of sense, what with the new colors on Newt’s skin and the sudden bursts of aggression when another male Siren is nearby. But that still doesn’t explain… “Why would you want to mate with _me_? I’m not a Siren.”

 

Newt laughs a shallow, watery, pitiful thing, and buries his face into Hermann’s chest once more.

 

“You think I care about that? I’ve loved you pretty much since I first saw you!” he cries. Hermann clutches him impossibly closer at the confession, feeling his heart shudder in a confusing mix of shock and joy. “But I know you don’t feel like that for me, so I was trying to stay away until it’s over! I didn’t...I wasn’t...”

 

“Newt...”

 

What madness is this, to suddenly be confronted with everything he felt and have those feelings being reciprocated so simply? But it isn’t so simple, is it? Because Newt thinks that Hermann is devoid of such emotions and weeps at a loss he doesn’t realize is pure illusion.

 

The Vampire looks at the dripping creature in his arms, well and truly looks at him in the limited space their proximity gives them, and thinks of just how terrified he had been the entire night. Firstly when he thought Newt had disappeared, then again when he couldn’t be found, and finally, when he had fought for his life right before Hermann’s eyes against a foe he had no business charging like that.

 

‘ _I could have lost him. I almost lost him._ ’

 

“I’m sorry, Hermann. I’m sorry,” Newt whimpers, and hearing such a normally cheerful voice sound so broken and hopeless, Hermann cannot quash the desire to reach up and cradle the Siren’s face in his hands. Newt’s expression is pleading, terrified of what Hermann might say, but that fear falls away the instant Hermann presses their lips together.

 

Hermann is not ashamed to admit his inexperience in matters of the romantic, and by extension matters of the physically intimate. His movements are gentle, timid, but his desire to comfort the one that has haunted his dreams gives him the courage he needs to close his eyes and hold Newt close. He feels the tension seep from Newt’s skin as they meld together, a warmth that Hermann believed beyond his reach spreading down his body as Newt wraps his arms around Hermann’s chest.

 

Hermann pulls away with reluctance, staring into Newt’s eyes with a soft grin.

 

“You silly thing. Who else challenges me the way you do? Who else could possibly make me feel alive, in spite of what I am?” he asks softly. His thumbs caress the Siren’s blushing cheeks in gentle circles, brushing away the salty tears that had begun to fall there. “I would be honored to be your mate, Newt. You need only ask.”  

 

Newt’s eyes widen impossibly further before Hermann is tackled to the ground and has all of the air in his lungs stolen by the sudden, damp weight on his chest. A piercing, echoing serenade of laughter fills the air around them, carrying the weight of magic that the Vampire knows will affect the townspeople miles away in their beds. Newt wraps his bouncing tail around their uncouth jumble of limbs like a snake on heavy stimulants, seemingly unaware of his burst into magic song, and lifts his face to smile up at Hermann through his waves of hair.

 

“You’re serious? You would do that for me — or, you would do that _with_ me?” he asks with a vibrant blush that extends from his cheeks down to his swirling spots of color.

 

“Well, I would if you’d be willing to move somewhere more comfortable,” he grouses, wincing at the sharp stabs of pain the rocks send shooting up his spine.

 

“OH! Sorry!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermann cannot help but smile at the way Newt’s expression brightens when they land on Hermann’s tower balcony and move beyond the wafting curtains to the inner corridor. It’s really not that impressive, with its bland stone walls and lack of any personal portraits or trinkets to speak of, but the Vampire supposes anything about a castle can be interesting if you’ve never been inside one before. He holds Newt’s dripping tail as far off the ground as he can manage, carrying him down the hall and up the winding stone staircase leading to his personal chambers.

 

“This is amazing! It’s so big!” Newt breathes, his eyes darting around every nook and crevice as if they held the very secrets of the universe.

 

“I’m glad you like it,” Hermann says, and he is only mildly shocked to find that he means it. He’d grown complacent with his surroundings, uninterested in company and content with function over flair. How unusual to find that Newt’s excitement could make him appreciate it in a way he hadn’t in a long, long while.

 

There are no windows in Hermann’s room, so when they enter the entire space is lit with as many candles as Hermann could find in a rush. The candles cast a gentle, almost foreboding light across his expansive four-poster bed and the filled porcelain bathtub on the far side of the room. He’d had to leave Newt for only a few minutes to magically transport enough seawater from the cove to the tub, just in case Newt’s body reacted violently to being out of the water for extended periods of time — a most likely scenario given their plans for the evening.

 

Overall, the room is extravagant as it is simple, welcoming as it is lonely, and Newt takes it all in with wide eyes and an awestruck expression.

 

“Wow! Is this your room?” the Siren asks softly. Hermann wastes no time in carrying him over to the bed, gently draping his damp body across silk sheets with a small smile.

 

“It used to be. Now it’s both of ours.” A vibrant pink color spreads across Newt’s cheeks as he sinks into the foreign softness beneath his bare back. His long tail moves languidly across the foot of the bed, his translucent fins dangling off the edge and brushing the floor. Hermann runs his fingers in lazy, mindless patterns down the Siren’s chest and feels the firm muscles nestled beneath his warm skin with a shiver of anticipation. “If you want it to be, that is. I know you need to be in the ocean most of the time, but…”

 

“I want to be with _you_ ,” Newt says, and Hermann is almost taken aback by how matter-of-fact he does so. “The ocean can dry up for all I care!”

 

“That’s not nice, my dear,” Hermann chuckles as he unclasps his black cloak and tosses it on the nearest chair. Newt raises himself onto his elbows to watch the Vampire disrobe, each tailored piece painstakingly unbuttoned and removed in quick succession. Newt does not seem to be in a rush, despite his apparent biological needs in full effect, and watches Hermann’s movement’s with an unnerving amount of focus and delight.

 

Hermann would feel self-conscious if it wasn’t so terribly flattering.

 

When he is finally standing beside the bed in nothing but his pale skin, Newt reaches out to him with both hands and gently pulls him down to lay beside him. The Siren runs his hands over Hermann’s chest, his long nails dipping into every muscle and dimple he comes across, while Hermann allows himself to give in to temptation and do the same. Their touches are exploratory, tentative and gentle, but Hermann knows there is no judgment or secrets to be had between them. It is mere seconds later that the mating impulses of his species finally overtakes Newt’s admirable self-control, and Hermann finds himself herded onto his back with a wide-eyed Siren looming over him.

 

He has never really seen Newt this unhinged before, with special exception given to the deadly brawl that he had witnessed earlier that night. Green eyes so often filled with passion and joy stare down at his face with hunger and possessiveness the likes of which Hermann has never seen directed at him. Open jaws that could easily tear him limb from limb press gentle, wet kisses down the center of his chest to his navel, a quick and playful tongue teasing his nerves and bringing him to an arousal he feels only on the rarest of moons.

 

He finds there is something concerningly sensual about being worshipped by a creature that rivals his own monstrosity and strength.

 

As Newt works his way back up Hermann’s body, frustratingly avoiding where Hermann now stands proud and aching, the Vampire feels a slick thickness press up against his leg and wiggle with a mind of its own. He cannot help the jerk of shock, the gasp of concern, but Newt does not seem to notice as he buries his lips in the crook between Hermann’s neck and shoulder. Hermann’s eyes wander down to find a long, tapered, pink appendage peeking out from a fold of scales situated in the center of Newt’s hips, barely larger than his own manhood and much more...well, _active_ would be an apt term.

 

“Hermann…” Newt growls in his ear, soothing and pleading rather than demanding but still much gruffer than the Vampire is used to hearing. “Show me where?”

 

Hermann pushes away the tingling worries of what he can only assume is the fleeting remnants of his human self, reaching down to wrap his fingertips around the squirming cock he has been presented and reveling in Newt’s shaky moan. He knows in his heart and mind that Newt would rather sing the entire world into despair and madness than hurt him, but even he can admit that his body has insecurities and instincts that will never really go away. Newt’s penis is warm and covered in a sleek substance Hermann does not try to analyze too much, and they both groan deeply in their throats as he forces himself to relax and guides Newt to that secret, untouched place between his legs.

 

Newt is swift and unrelenting, diving deep with a single thrust as Hermann throws back his head with a cry.

 

It is slightly painful, that much is certain, but pain is an old, intimate acquaintance of Doctor Hermann Gottlieb. This new sensation burns in a way that excites him, nothing like the twinges of his leg or the agony of his thirsts for blood when he neglects his body for too long, and he braces Newt’s strong hips in between his thighs as a pulsing heat invades his body. The Siren’s cock is a wanderer unrestrained by logic or rigidity, rubbing up against Hermann’s inner walls and brushing uncharted places in such a way that makes Hermann’s toes curl in pleasured shock.

 

“UH! Ah! Hermann!” Newt whimpers against his shoulder. His claws suddenly move away from Hermann’s body, fisting the fabric beneath them as he visibly forces his upper body far enough away to glance down into Hermann’s face. “Are — are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

 

Hermann reaches up to brush a long strand of hair behind the fins on the side of Newt’s head, trying his best to smile reassuringly as the foreign weight inside of him continues to move unabated.

 

“I’m alright, darling,” he gasps softly. “I’ll be fine. Do what you must.”

 

Newt stares at his face as if searching for any signs of deceit, before the possessive hunger takes over again in a flash. Hermann is suddenly crushed against the Siren’s chest as he wraps his arms around the Vampire’s body, smooth scales rubbing against the backs of his thighs and pushing impossibly deeper into his center. Pain and ecstasy entwine at the base of his spine as Hermann gasps for the oxygen he does not need to survive and cants his hips in invitation. Newt presses him down into the mattress, barely moving as his warm appendage writhes and searches for something neither of them can comprehend or identify.

 

It takes almost a full minute for Hermann to notice the faint waves of hypnotizing song reverberating through the air around them as Newt pants into Hermann’s skin.

 

“Oh, Hermann...so good...my Hermann...mine! Mine!” Hermann smirks despite himself, reaching one hand up to bury his fingers into Newt’s wild mane.

 

“Possessive, a-are we? Well, I can — uh! — work with that.” The Vampire arches up as much as he is able, purposefully squeezing his inner muscles as tightly as he can around Newt’s cock. Newt falters and moans as predicted, his voice reaching almost painfully high octaves as he tumbles over the edge. Hermann gasps as he is filled with a burst of warm seed, his hips jumping at the new sensation and his body locking up with pleasure.

 

Newt slowly slumps on top of him, breathing labored, and his twitching length grows still and limp.

 

“Ugh, no fair,” he murmurs around his gasps. Hermann chuckles, trying not to focus on his heavy arousal where it lays in between their stomachs.

 

“Fairness is relative. Besides, am I correct in assuming that this mating season of yours isn’t going to end anytime soon?” he asks breathlessly. Newt whines in the affirmative, gently lifting himself out of Hermann’s embrace and slowly, gently, easing himself out of his new mate’s body. Hermann cannot help the wince that passes over his face, though as soon as he is empty, he feels the unrelenting cold return.

 

“I’m sorry,” Newt whispers, his expression concerned and guilty. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

 

“That’s quite alright, my dear,” Hermann says with a huff and small grin. “Don’t worry. I’m tougher than I look.”

 

“You always look tough to me, but that doesn’t mean you’re invulnerable, Hermann.” Newt pouts in a way Hermann knows is not supposed to be adorable in any sense, and yet that is the only word he can think to describe it. The Siren’s eyes wander over him, no doubt checking for other hurts he can blame himself for, when his eyes fall to where Hermann’s erection remains flushed and at attention. “Oh! OH! That — is that for me?!”

 

“Certainly not, it’s for the fly on the wall — of course it’s for you, you simpleton! Who else would it be for?” Hermann grouses with a fierce blush. Newt’s pout vanishes behind a huge grin, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Hermann’s shoulders and flipping them over so that their positions are reversed.

 

“I’m flattered, Doctor Black Clothes! Please, by all means…” Newt reaches up to cup the back of Hermann’s neck in one hand, reaching down past his retreating penis and prying open a second, lower orifice among his scales with the other. “...have your way with me.”

 

Hermann’s blush grows only fiercer, his eyes transfixed at the erotic display Newt lays before him so shamelessly. His erection twitches in anticipation and want, but unlike his Siren lover, he has no excuse to behave so barbarically as to take without employing the proper gentlemanly protocol.

 

“Are you...quite certain?” he asks softly. “I mean, you don’t have to repay me for — that is to say, if you don’t really want to —”

 

“Hermann. As much as seeing you flustered is hilarious and groundbreaking, I really, really, want you to mate with me now,” Newt interrupts with a gentle wiggle of his tail. Hermann swallows as he takes in the Siren’s sultry smirk, his vibrantly speckled colors, and the normally hidden place that Newt offers to him without hesitation. “I want you, in every way I can have you.”

 

“...heh...you spoil me, Newt.”

 

Hermann braces his legs on either side of Newt’s hips, testing out different positions until he finds one that won’t agitate his old injury. Newt’s blue scales are deceptively warm and smooth beneath his thighs, and as his fingers trace the edges of Newt’s slick opening, the tiny layers of scales surrounding it ripple and quiver in his wake. Newt stares up at him with wide pupils and his face flushed with arousal, the rest of his body limp and waiting.

 

Hermann’s fangs protrude over his bottom lip as he slowly guides himself into that exquisite, tight heat. Newt arches up to meet him with a sigh that borders on pure relief, inclining his head to kiss Hermann deeply as the Vampire begins to press in and out in a steady rhythm. Soft, slick walls flutter around his length and send shudders up his spine. Newt reaches up to slide his hands down Hermann’s body and around the back of his hips, grasping him as if to pull them even closer and begging with every other breath.

 

“Ah! Please, Hermann — uh, yes! Harder!” Hermann grins and leans down to suckle at the Siren’s throat as his thrusts gain speed and intensity. His fangs graze over Newt’s carotid arteries, which pulse and rush with blood and echo in the deepest parts of Hermann’s ears.

 

Hermann forces his mouth away from that fragile place — no need to tempt fate, after all — to stare down into Newt’s eyes. Their noses barely touch, their mouths wide open and panting, and in that moment Hermann loses himself in the intense emotions swimming in his lover’s eyes. There is something so open and honest there, something raw and deeper than Hermann has ever seen before, and the Vampire feels his heart flay open as Newt looks up at him as if he is the most precious thing in the entire world.

 

Distantly, Hermann feels himself losing control, and his thrusts become increasingly erratic and firm. Newt’s expression of ecstasy crinkles at the edges, and his grip on Hermann’s hips hardens to the point of welling up blood beneath his sharp nails.

 

“N-Newt…I’m…”

 

“Come inside me,” Newt whispers back, and the words shock away any remaining semblance of control Hermann had on his body’s stamina.

 

Once everything stops being pleasantly hazy at the edges, Hermann feels Newt’s face rubbing gently against his own as they lay in a boneless, tangled pile on his bedsheets. The music on the wind fades away to silence, save for their exhausted breathing, and it takes all of Hermann’s remaining strength to withdraw himself and curl up next to his new mate with a sigh. Newt hums happily and drags his fingernails gently up the back of Hermann’s spine.

 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he says softly. Hermann makes a noise of inquiry, resting his chin on the Siren’s chest and basking in the weightless, joyful aftermath of their coupling. “I mean, I always wondered what it would be like. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Different species, different anatomy — just morbid curiosity, you know?”

 

Hermann hides his undignified snort in the vivid spirals of color across Newt’s ribs.

 

“But I never thought you would actually...I mean, I hoped! I dreamed about it even! But if anyone asked if I really thought I could get you to feel anything for me —” he rambles, and Hermann cannot help but look up at him with what he knows is a love-struck smile.

 

“Do you truly believe I think so little of you?” he asks, unable to feel hurt when he knows he had the same fears floating around in the darkest parts of his mind. Newt blushes and shrugs his shoulders, pulling Hermann close and burying his chin in his cropped hair.

 

“I know I can be...a bit much. You’re always so patient with me, but I didn’t know if it was because you liked me or because you didn’t care.” 

 

“The term ‘ _like_ ’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, Newt,” Hermann whispers. The shadows dance across his skin as he reaches up to entwine their fingers together. “You’re the only one I’ve ever felt this way about, after centuries of being alone. If anything, I’m surprised you wanted me, of all things.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” Newt asks, sounding genuinely curious. “You’re amazing! You’re strong, you’re smart, you’re powerful —”

 

“As are you.” Hermann feels Newt’s tail wiggle beneath him, though whether from discomfort or bashfulness, he is unsure. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Vampires mate for life, you know.”

 

A stunned silence follows his casual statement, and despite years of perfecting his emotionless mask, Hermann feels the teasing smirk spread across his lips without his consent. Newt squawks when he catches sight of it, thrashing his body around on the sheets while Hermann breaks out in an uncontrollable peal of laughter. 

 

“That’s not funny, Hermann! You almost took years off my life!”

 

“Why are you angry? Are you planning on mating with someone else?”

 

“What?! No! No, I just — shut up!” Newt growls and buries himself into the depths of sheets and pillows, sending the normally tidy setup into complete disarray with an embarrassed huff. “You’re lucky I love you, you jerk!”

 

‘ _I am_ ,’ Hermann thinks to himself. ‘ _I really, truly am._ ’

 


End file.
